As the eyes of the swooning hairdresser fluttered back open, Norman shoved the missing dog flyer in his face. Below "$10,000 REWARD" in bold letters appeared a fuzzy snapshot of a hound with white and tan patches, and demented red eyes.

"Rodrigo, it has to look just like that," Norman said. "Can you do it for us?"

"Sorry," he groaned, "I cut class the day they taught us how to make red contact lenses. Why are you doing this, if I may ask?"

"You know how they have casting agents for children?" Valeria said. "Our neighbor is a pet agent. He got my dog a part in a movie as Lassie's double."

"You can't fool me," Rodrigo said, wagging a finger. "I know what you're up to. Yeah. I see you two lovebirds, you want to collect the reward for the missing dog and get married. The money's been holding you back."

Norman was a guy who always carried around a backpack with everything you need: an Allen wrench, WD-40, a Swiss Army knife, a tube of super glue, and even a battalion of the Swiss Army. With great dexterity obtained as an Eagle Scout, Norman quickly managed to weld his own hand to the floor with super glue.

The mishap was a blessing in disguise. While the dog eagerly licked Norman's face, it stayed still long enough for the color to set.

By the time Rodrigo hosed off Zoe and shampooed the color out, she had white patches marbled with “honey-glow amber.” The resemblance between her and the missing dog was astonishing.

A collective sigh filled the salon. What had been a sunny, bright day turned to gloom.

"I think it's best we go home now," Valeria said to Norman, who still struggled to detach his hand from the floor. .

"But we must believe," said Norman panting, "Ouch! This is pulling the skin off my hand. . . Yes, belief is the indispensable element."

"Get real," Valeria said. "We'd be just as likely to get a reward for a Pinks hot dog."

"You're scared, Val. That's what it is. You don’t want to give up Zoe. You've had this dog since you were seven years old and Nana gave her to you. When she goes, she's gonna to leave a big empty place in your heart."

"List to Mr. Empathetic," Valeria snarled. "You can't wait to get rid of Zoe. Admit it. You always hated her leaving hairs on the couch, and slobbering in your scrambled eggs. But nothing will change the fact that Boku is a boy and Zoe is a girl."